Gregor and the Rise of Death
by EliteArbiterElite213214
Summary: The seeds of chaos have finally been inflicted on New York City, and the magnificent city has been reduced to rubble. And Gregor must decide all the while what he needs more: life...or his queen? However, when the Underland desperately needs his help against an enemy that only heralds doom and despair, Gregor must face the greatest challenges the Universe may ever see...on his own.
1. Prolouge: In the dark

**For some reason, my prologue got deleted, so I'll give it to you now. Please review for this and chapter two in separate reviews for me to see your detailed reaction! This is just a rewritten version of my old Rise of Death chapter one. To see my original chapter one, take a look at "Gregor and the Rise of Death Is My Story!"**

**Disclaimer: This is a disclaimer for the entire story, so don't mention it. Ok, so, I don't own the Underland chronicles or any of the characters, except those that I make up. **

**Now please, come and read my horrific prologue!**

Deep in the dark, unforgiving purgatory known as the Uncharted Lands, a dark, desolate netherworld, nestled between the lands of the true living, and the lands of the dead, was home to horrific and defying demonic creations.

Only seen by chosen candidates, those who saw these creatures never lived to return to their people to tell them of these creatures. The people died, their dark secret sealed within their forever to be closed lips.

And thus, these creatures were deemed as Soul Harvesters.

The rumors of the local folklore were actually quite accurate depicting the Soul Harvesters. Ostensibly creations of death, Soul Harvesters donned themselves an armor that was completely black and looked like devilish robes. They were covered with skulls, blue lights emitting from the skulls' eyes. Dark shadows crept uncertainly behind them, rising to an altitude well above their heads. They had awe-striking spikes and chains covering their body, and their armor was flawless in portraying their apparent belief in being creations of death.

However, perhaps their most terrifying factor was their skull-studded scythe in which they carried at all times. With blue light emitted from the scythe, and shadows creeping behind it, this scythe was not one to be revered. It struck impending doom and terror into one's body, and a calamitous impact awaited those whom the scythe was directed it.

No...the single most terrifying factor of these creations of Satan was their face. No, it was a skull. There was no ostensible skin at all, and blue light was also emitted from their eyes and from between their forever grinning teeth. To make themselves look more threatening, or perhaps to conceal something from those is faced off against, they donned themselves a black hood with seemingly spiritual light gleaming from them.

And their diet...they ate most of the corpses of those they had slain. Their tactics in fighting were most brutal and gruesome, tearing into their opponents. The feeble weapons and claws of the fighters had no impact on the Soul Harvester, whose barely visible grin struck fear into the thoughts of a soldier miles away.

Yet, it was light that they hated the most. To them, light was a reflection of death and anger. And perhaps, in a way it was true. While light was what brought mankind to the world, it was also light that afflicted calamities on people. Yes, to them, it was darkness that should reign over day. But this would not become true, unless they slew all those in the world. Beginning with the humans.

* * *

Deep in the dark, unforgiving Uncharted Lands, lay a castle. Once magnificent, it's proud prowess was reduced to mortifying failure. Blood crept along the walls, and there was no sanitarily acceptable room in the castle. No. No longer.

Blood reigned over water, decay reigned over repair...and death reigned over life. It was on this gloomy and forsaken place where a Soul Harvester was now standing.

The polluted decay of the stairs gave way to the Soul Harvester, who vigorously switched to floating up the stairs.

Claws struck against doors as the Soul Harvester prodded through them, and occasionally drank up the arbitrarily drops of blood that fell from the ceiling. To the Soul Harvester, blood was a necessity, and at the same time, was a delicacy.

Dragged along by the Soul Harvester was a trashed, human corpse, and a scarcely recognizable gnawer corpse, relieved of its fur and most of it's skin. Blood oozed from the two trashed corpses, and their organs were visible through the dim, white light reflected by their skeleton.

At last, after stalking throughout the remnants of this decaying castle for elaborate periods of time, the Soul Harvester finally turned into a bloody hall, and threw the corpses of the human and gnawer into the hall. Taking it's scythe, it grinned maliciously before it began to feast on it's main course.

Hand, scythe. Hand, scythe. This deadly duo of doom made short work of the corpses, and the Harvester quickly gulped down the food, taking sadistic glee in inhaling the blood. The ordinarily cloying, metallic taste was as good as ice cream to the Soul Harvester.

After the last trace of bone had been gnawed away, the Soul Harvester laboriously sat down, resentment reflected in it's eyes. This was far too little! It needed more blood...ahhh, how it loved blood.

Venturing to a higher altitude in the ruined castle, the Soul Harvester eventually found what it had been looking for. A room full of corpses, perhaps the remains of a massive slaughter that was directed by others. Whatever the cause, the Soul Harvester was still supplied with a supple amount of food.

Striking his scythe against a rack of weapons that lay in his path, he knocked them aside and ventured towards his potential meal.

He speared one man in the eye, yanking out the delicious appetizer. And thus, it gorged the man, and engaged in other horrific activities. Blood was spilled, blood was drinken...and bodies were eaten. A castle full of void, pure, death. What it heralded, the Soul Harvester did not know. All he took pleasure in was the potential meal he had just eaten.

And there it was again, the grumble resounding from his stomach. Go, it seemed to say. Get another meal. The Soul Harvester was tempted to disagree...but why not? One more gnawer could not hurt, could it?

The only trace of life in the castle, it was rapidly leaving as the Soul Harvester made it's way to the exit. Stepping out, an ominous grin was it's last action before it stepped through a murky blue portal that suddenly appeared in the distance. Stepping in it, it's features receded, it's scythe disappeared...

And in the distance, long after the portal had disappeared, ugly laughter resounded in the distance.

Yes, it seemed the Soul Harvester had met it's undermining goal.


	2. The Change

**I know I deleted my other story, and you all know why. And I know I made it clear I probably wouldn't write again...but please, people, give me one more chance, I beg of you. I won't do anything stupid again. This is my chance to redeem myself. And Death is the main villain of the story once again. Please, trust me. I will not do anything rash or lowlife-like again.**

Gregor stood, belittled, intimidated, awestruck and terrified as the strident and thunderous sounds rumbled in his ears, as the spectacular yet perilous explosions became discernible and visible to him.

He was in Manhattan, where skyscrapers belittled him, where the crowded, robust streets bustled with activity. But this was to be no more, courtesy to these explosions.

It had been one, then two, then numerous agile jets streaking across the sky, firing stealthily upon the Empire State Building, and then many more towering office buildings, which no longer threateningly loomed over him. In their place, he noticed, was the smoke rising from the blackened ruins of the once magnificent buildings.

Explosions were ubiquitous...undulating...and suddenly Gregor heard a shriek, and was shoved roughly aside, the force knocking him over...just barely allowing him to avoid an immense piece of steel that fell from somewhere in the sky. Gregor's interest was immediately replaced with worry and concern, as he noticed the splattered blood that littered the floor around the rock. Quickly lifting a side up, Gregor struggled to hold the heavy weight up, attempting to balance it with his strength. Looking underneath the rock, Gregor envisioned the grotesque sight underneath the rock...

...And the sight knocked the pure will to hold up the steel, let alone stand, and Gregor collapsed to the floor, screaming, shouting, and vomiting.

_His parents. _

Underneath the heavy piece of steel, lay his parents now grotesque and greatly disfigured corpses. His parents had saved him...they had pushed him aside so that he wouldn't die. But they had sacrificed their lives for him to live.

And he couldn't take the pain.

Tears stung Gregor's eyes as he wondered the cause of this assault on Manhattan, though this concern was quickly replaced when he caught the sight of Boots and Lizzie's faces. They were completely white, their eyes widened in horror, their mouth's curved in terror and disbelief. Their bodies seemed paralyzed, and they seemed to have utterly lost their souls, as they both remained relatively motionless.

And Gregor realized this is what he would be dealing with for the rest of his life. His sisters, without the help of his parents. Because they were dead. And their death had crippled Lizzie and Boots. His sweet, trusting sisters...he implored them ever so vigorously, but his soul too was desolate and void. He had nothing to say to them. But he had something to express himself with.

Looking up furiously at the explosion, disregarding the screams and wails of sirens around him, with renewed vigor Gregor viciously pondered on what this assault expressed.

It expressed sadistic disdain, anger and depression. And it brought out these three feelings, all in one, so that they could cripple the victim who was forced to feel these feelings. Gregor believed this attack to be a demonstration of terrorism. Whoever was leading this attack obviously had a purpose. A demand.

All it brought on upon him was anger. Pain, viciousness. His blinding rage barely allowed him to govern his body, as Gregor stumbled through the shattered, deprived streets to a building that still stood intact. Gregor's initial goal was to reach a rally point at a high altitude where he could...he did not know. But he would make these terrorists suffer.

Stalking up the series of tiring steps, Gregor lost much energy, much stamina, but lost no determination. Enigmatic disdain plagued his face, as he roughly shoved aside the people who foolishly cowered within the building. There was many a corpse to be found on every floor, but for each corpse, Gregor was rewarded with more vengeance to inflict on these bastards.

His parents...Gregor sorrowfully realized he would never have anyone to call him for breakfast, call him to wake up, call him to do his homework...take care of him...nobody to be his essential parent...

"These terrorists are going to damn pay, I'll make sure of that," Gregor softly snarled, his words sounding ominous and threatening. Reaching the final steps, Gregor dashed over them, and slammed open a door that lay as the last barrier between Gregor and his vengeance...or so he presumed...

Stepping out onto the roof, his face curved into a vicious snarl that was laced with disdain, Gregor appeared to be quite the warrior as he looked out at the hawk-like jets that encircled his position. Correctly determining the process that involved physics and pure luck, a pilot swiftly navigated his way to Gregor's position and without any prelude, zoomed towards Gregor at astonishing speed.

As it was, Gregor abruptly lifted up a piece of fallen steel that was quickly diminishing, and without any pretense, countered the airstrike by shearing off the left wing of the jet as it tumulted towards him, causing it to plummet down onto the visible street that lay in ruins. Roaring in rage, his anger not quenched yet, Gregor took steel after steel and hurled it at the jets that sped at surprising speeds around him. Somewhat luckily Gregor managed to accurately destroy each jet...until Gregor suddenly found it to be a rigorous struggle to remain on his feet. Looking down, he perceived the snide sneer of the pilot who had, no doubt, chose to crash the jet into the building. Though doing so painted into one's mind an imminent and obscure suicide, the pilot managed to retain some sadistic glee before the resounding explosion went off-

-And with it, Gregor's place to stand. Gregor plummeted down onto the ruined street that awaited him below, that would promise him a dark, unforgiving death-and suddenly felt pain. Vibrating pain which rendered his back in agony. Looking down, Gregor was shocked to find that he had landed on a durable front of a jet. Looking towards his left, he noticed the impeccable design of the intricate wings, which seemed to be so far from him. And turning a bit, he noticed the snide smirk of the terrorist who operated the very altitude of the jet.

Gregor knew of only one thing to do-he smashed his durable arms into the paved glass that separated his fury from the target, the now bewildered pilot who seemed to be in an almost lackadaisical position. Looking at the pilot in bitter contempt, Gregor continued his rampage against the pilot, who reprimanded Gregor's reaction by opening the glass. Pressing the auto-pilot button in a grim stupor, the terrorist stepped out onto the surface of the plane-his last action.

His mistake? His arrogance. The result? A fist slamming into his face, sending him spiraling down onto the insolvent street. Now equipped with a jet, Gregor climbed in, now faced with the desperate challenge of navigating the plane. Courtesy to his damaging punches, of course.

There was only one thing that prevented the relentless spinning of the jet and the eventual crash-catching view of the commanding figure who let out the relentless cry, "No retreat! Keep up the attack!"

The affect on Gregor was instantaneous. In a moment's brief notice, the jet he was operating to briskly and abruptly turned that even Gregor felt the old tremors of nausea for a moment. And the next moment, he sped off towards that traitor of the world, who rode on a large jet himself.

With renewed vigor, Gregor calamitously attacked the jet. Alas, his jet had no chance against the well armed and equipped jet the leader of this attack had. Tall, sharp, and muscular, obviously aging, the terrorist looked grimly at Gregor, having antagonized him into a charge. His grim frown soon commenced into a malicious smirk as he roared, "Let out fire!"

And the immense powers of the streaking missiles were soon directed towards Gregor's now feeble and denied jet, whose once proud steel stood no chance against the plummeting artillery. At the last moment, facing the missiles with a lackadaisical, placid frown, Gregor smashed open the hatch, and leaped out of the jet, seconds away from a gruesome death...unbeknownst to the terrorists.

The terrorists laughed, as if the alleged attack against them was ludicrous. But to Gregor, whose jet had been above them, and would have been feet away had they been at the same altitude, his rage was almost palpable as he faced against these harbingers of darkness. Diving down at impassable speed, Gregor grabbed onto a wing that came into the grasp of his hands, and held on for dear life.

As the jet most inconveniently swerved and twisted throughout the air, Gregor slowly climbed on, finally able to put his legs on the wing. Finally, when the jet imminently arrived on a roof top, Gregor was quick to seize the moment towards when the glass opened...

...and smashed the pilot's jaw, hearing a relatively satisfying crack that alerted him of the damage inflicted. As the pilot staggered, Gregor quickly flipped the demonic man off of the roof, sending him spiraling down to his death.

The terrorist leaped out of the jet, tackling into Gregor. Gregor nimbly swept the man aside and smashed a punishing fist into his adversary's face, sending a satisfying amount of blood spurting out of him. As the two opponent stared at each other, Gregor blithely growled, "What...the...HELL IS THIS?" Gregor gesticulated to the ruins that they were standing upon.

In response, the terrorist blandly laughed and said, "This is my protest for _change. _I, for one, am tired of the way these places are acting. These damn people...you have to deal with them or kill them. And I've chosen to kill them. Obviously the better choice."

Gregor couldn't believe his ears. The response was so...ludicrous! Killing people? What? Gregor's ears bristled as he struggled to hear more.

"People...look at them. Look at our country. So selfish, just wanting war, war, war, to become rich, rich, rich. Well, I'm sick of it. And this is what I do for change."

"Let's see, because you're angry, you decide to blow up a bunch of people. Isn't there less drastic choices?" Gregor sardonically quipped.

"Oh, yes, killing those who oppose me." The man's grim smile was brimming with connivance. "And you are one of them." Pulling out a machine pistol, he rested his hand on the trigger. His devious smirk was beginning to annoy Gregor. "You. Die. Now." And he pulled the trigger.

Gregor did not remember clearly what happened next. All he remembered was vigorously sliding across the floor (if you could call it that), escaping the imminent death the bullets would bring upon impact. Following his maneuver, he jumped up and bludgeoned the man"s hand, lustfully watching the man's pain. Noticing the futile gun on the floor, Gregor picked it up, and promptly shot out all the ammo inside of it. Considering his work done, he stomped on the gun, rendering it worthless.

Blood pumped from his heart, his brain was throbbing, his eyes were icily cold, and his smile was grim. Peering at the now frightened man, Gregor simply and most ironically said, "You. Die. Now." And he ventured towards the man.

The man looked up at Gregor with pleading eyes. "Please! No! Do-" He was intercepted within his speech as he was pounded brutally on his stomach. "Augh!" He promptly screamed, an ersatz sound of what he really wanted to make but didn't have the strength to.

The man looked at Gregor with malicious eyes, the pleading long gone. "Of course, you would do this," he spat out bitterly. "You would be the one to ruin...change! Change from this...living hell!"

Gregor looked at him blankly, contemplating on what to do. Deciding that he had enough of the small talk, Gregor abruptly seized the man's arm, and with immense pressure applied onto it, ripped it off. The remaining skin hung limply to the side. "AHHHHHHHH!" The man howled in an agonizing trance. Tears were brimming from his eyes, and suddenly Gregor felt the urge to laugh. He stifled it, knowing that in that sense he would sound like a true killer.

"No...don't do this..." the man scarcely had the time to say it before rage consumed Gregor. Howling infernally, he grabbed the man's face and slammed fist after fist into it, finally regaining control over himself after he noticed that his vision was coated in blood. Gregor looked icily at the man, who now whimpered in a feeble attempt for Gregor's fury to end. Alas, it didn't work.

Gregor lifted the man by the neck, and without warning, snapped his eyes off with his bare fingers. With the blood streaming out, Gregor took the opportunity to break the man's neck, taking satisfaction when he finally heard the relatively loud snap.

And then it was over.

The terrorist was dead. He had scored his retribution upon...these creations of Satan. Gregor furiously lifted up the body...and flung it over the building, awaiting the bloody mass that would be that bastard.

Looking out at the fleeing terrorists, Gregor roared, "AND THAT...IS WHAT I THINK OF YOUR DAMNED TERRORISM." His voice cracked. He slumped over. As the rain began to fall, Gregor shed tears. And he sat down and sobbed inconsolably.

But the bloodshed, deaths and tears of that day could not stop the rage that inhabited everyone's mind.

And the terrorism continued.

**This is already pretty good, I guess. Please review to my story! And remember, Death WILL be the main villain of this story! In fact, this is basically a better and more improved version of rise of death, except the cutters will have a significantly decreased role, and the story will be made to be even longer than the other one. Also...this story will be FAR more depressing and demeaning. So...if you don't like those kind of stories, I regret to tell you this, but hit the back button. **


	3. Memories for life

**Thank you, to the many people that reviewed. Yes, Dragunity Gemini, this story is off to a much better start than the previous. Pocketnova, thank you. Euliliaaaaaaaa (did I misspell your name?) I'm sorry that Gregor is so lethal and merciless, but this is the way I now envision him. Death969, thank you for the kind review. Youneedtoknow, I am grateful that you have kept up on your story. Fallenark, thank you. Warlordofnulgath, I am strictly advising you not to review to my story. Please leave this site or fix your attitude. Good, thank you for reviewing to my story. Again, anonymous reviewers, I am strictly advising you not to overload on reviews. This was a reason why my last story received mixed reviews: a anonymous reviewer overloaded on stupid reviews for my story. So, I will block anonymous reviews if I have to. I'm glad that I got seven reviews (not counting the idiot's review I received) and I present to you: chapter two.**

~4 YEARS~

In a desolate, ruined part of New York City, a tall, sullen and hooded boy ran throughout the destroyed blocks with ease, the soles of his rather uncomfortable shoes scratching the cement, a sound resounding back.

He was being pursued by a grotesque and unsightly man of about 40, who carried a surgical knife, the tip of the blade deliberately exposed. Though the boy possessed a great amount of stamina, his quarry was undoubtedly a predator, for once, with extraordinary stamina.

Looking once through the ruined doors, the boy occasionally spotted despondent eyes sullenly staring back at him, their defiance long gone, their will dwindled down.

Coming towards the boy, waving the knife threateningly, this man was not a man of power, his incentive only to rob little children to feel some supremacy over others-who happened to be helpless.

In plain sight, the boy dallied for a moment, and then turned almost bemusedly into a fallen alley, now and then shifting his legs to avoid falling debris.

But alas, all alleys came to a forsaken end, as did this particular alley. The boy was forced to arrest his movement, and turned around to face the smirking man who smugly looked towards the boy.

"You, little hoodlum, are to die _now." _The man spoke with such passion and reverence that for once moment, the boy almost embraced him.

"Is that what you think, old man? 'Cause for one old man, you sure run _fast!" _The boy quipped, for the first time allowing some humor into his voice.

"Heh, I'm gonna enjoy this!" The man displayed his knife, the serrated edge glistening in the remaining light of the day.

"Yeah, you sure as hell will," the boy muttered. "Huh, I've better pull this off." And a moment later, the dark, terrifying hood fell to the floor.

He stepped out to greet the man. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes, you're going to need that knife, old man! Hope you use it well!" Gregor jested, his arms being flexed.

"Hmmm...you're the talkative one. It'll be a blessing when I tear out your vocal cord." The man growled bitterly, obviously peeved at the small talk.

"Hmmm...or maybe I'll tear out your heart!" And suddenly, Gregor catapulted himself towards the man, easily dodging the flawed slash aimed at him. Smashing the man's hand, Gregor grabbed it and broke it. Nimbly leaping above the man, Gregor adeptly landed, picked up the knife, and lashed out at the man. "_You, Emilio Vasquez, will PAY for the bombing you've done!" _

"No...NO!" Emilio's eyes broadened in shock and then in genuine terror. His eyes assumed a pleading, worthless look, as his heart pumped, knowing his life was at stake here. "No, please. It wasn't me! I have a life to live-"

"A life to live? For what? Planning more bombs? You bastard, you're responsible for claiming 785 lives, and leaving 1,043 injured! You asshole. Let YOU live? If I had that thought I'd cut my own throat!" Gregor furiously snarled.

Emilio looked on in terror as Gregor slowly but vigorously pulled a knife from his back pocket, the serrated edge displayed for all glory. With renewed vigor, Emilio thrashed in Gregor's grip, but to no avail. Gregor stabbed Emilio on both wrists, deliberately near the veins, with his two knives. Looking grimly down at the man, Gregor took sadistic glee in watching this demon thrash and struggle.

An involuntary groan of pain was let out from Emilio, as he realized he didn't have the time to regain his composure...before this boy took him out. "No! Don't! Don't hurt me!" Emilio closed his forsaken eyes, hoping that his fate would not be decided today.

Alas, it was to no avail.

Gregor cracked his knuckles, the non-rigorous challenge awaiting him, making him feel some satisfaction. "I made it clear that I hated terrorism." Gregor grimly spoke as he made his way towards Emilio. "And yet, you keep it up. I'm gonna take pleasure in this, you bastard." Gregor knelt down, and without warning, began to pummel Emilio's face with his bare hands.

"This," he yelled, "is for live number one! This is for live number two!" And so, the pattern went on, long after Emilio had lost consciousness. Long after Emilio had had his neck broken...long after Emilio had died.

Looking in disgust at the gruesome blood that dripped from his hands, Gregor wiped it on his already gory pants, which reflected the kills he had made over the years. Gregor jubilantly looked forward to going back to Lizzie and Boots, the only joy in his life now. While he fought to preserve, he lived for his sisters.

Leaving behind the disfigured corpse, Gregor's avoided the glances of the suddenly hurried passerby, and he quickened his pace home.

* * *

Gregor knocked on the barricaded door, awaiting the muffled but sweet reply: "Gregor, Gregor, I missed you!" or the timid but indeed jovial reply, "Gregor? Is that you? I'm glad!"

Instead, he heard nothing.

His knocking persisted, not caring if it attracted noise or not. What was wrong? Why wouldn't they open the door? Did something happen? Thinking of what had happened to his parents, Gregor's knocking hastened, and when they still didn't come to the door, Gregor worriedly smashed opened a window that was heavily concealed to the local passerby. Crawling in, Gregor was disappointed to find his sisters not there.

But he was terrified to find the blood. Oh, the horrors of the blood! It was spread everywhere, over the furniture, over the walls, and over the floor. It led into the kitchen.

Precariously following the trail of cloying blood, Gregor looked up in the kitchen...

...And screamed. He screamed and screamed, but he had no parents to come to his aid. He was alone.

On the curvaceous floor, lay the bloody bodies of his sisters. Boots and Lizzie. Dead.

Gregor fell to the floor, desperately waiting for the tears to fall out. But none did. He had lost his ability to shed tears, he had realized.

"No! NO! NO!" Gregor pounded the floor, desperately searching for answers. Instead, the instrumental silence plagued his mind, more than he could bear. He lay on the floor, his agonizing pain being more than he could handle. He needed a way to let it out, to inflict vengeance on-

-on who did this. Whatever bastards did this were gonna pay. He would make them suffer. He would tear off their skin, and smash their faces into walls. He would...he would kill them. All of them.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Gregor let out an infernal howl of pure rage and desperation, and in a moment, he shot out of his door, looking despondently at the barricaded door in disbelief. No, despondent was an understatement-perhaps mentally depressed would come closer to describing him.

Looking out at horizon, Gregor noticed the countless gang members that stalked towards him, preparing to assault him. They were armed with terrifying knifes, and their numbers were awe striking. Guns reflected off of their belts as if it was obsidian, and their grim vigor was at it's peak.

Gregor's sweat beaded down his face as he furiously stared at the gang members. His rage was almost palpable as he looked at these harbingers of darkness.

"Give up, little boy! There is nothing you can do. Prepare to die! Hahahah!" The ugly laughter resounded from the buildings and rapidly spread from each gang member.

Gregor's face remained locked, his fury not allowing him to move.

One gang member gurgled, "Man, we'll kill this loser. We'll gut out his eyes, and tear them up...just like those damn little girls we killed!"

Gregor's eyes widened, and then he only saw crimson in front of his narrowed eyes. He snapped. He would not take anymore of this. He lost his parents, his sisters, his home-and these damn gang members were a fault of this. Gregor pulled out the standard, bullet proof double chained blades that he developed that were standard for his fighting style and let out an infernal howl of war. And he charged at his adversaries.

The gunmen, visibly frightened, pulled the triggers of their numerous guns, only to have them reflected. Screaming in fear, they had scarcely the time to let out their guttural howls before they were torn up by Gregor's fury. Blood spilled out, and the dire assault had grown larger.

Gregor slashed into the gang members, focusing mainly on those with heavy weapons and firearms. He generally sliced off their minuscule hands, and sliced them to pieces, their current affront over. Gregor leaped into the air, and spun himself into a cyclone of chaos, slicing even more of the gang members into minuscule bits.

Nimbly stepping down, he smashed his arm into a gang members' neck, cracking it. He threw one blade at another gang member. After it had done the gruesome deed of dispatching the gang member, he pulled it back and threw it at others. Never tiring, fueled by his limitless rage, Gregor's punishment was inflicted on the gang members for hours.

However, the amount continuously increased, and gang members continued to replenish their ranks. Gauging the distance in which it would take to make a mad dash towards the center of the gang members. After doing so, Gregor planned to spin in a furious circle, which would reflect the bullets, and tear the gangs into pieces.

A sudden and brisk move, a sideswipe to the side, disgruntled Gregor, and his assault was temporarily postponed. And suddenly, a gang member lifted up a scarred gun, and cocked it at Gregor. His mind was blank, his expression was grim, but his eyes were only focusing on the gun that was pointed at him. Attempting to formulate a plan, he could think of none. And now, the gang member, flouncing in a lackadaisical position, said, "Hmmm...now, now, ready to back down, little boy?"

Gregor instinctively recoiled, shooting back, "No! I'd cut my throat if I had that thought!"

"Is that so?" the amused gang member said. "That's just what we did to your sisters. And now you doing the same thing-"

The accursed thought was never finished, and the gun was forsaken, as Gregor blindly charged at the befuddled gang member. Gregor grabbed the arm and broke it, and stabbed the man through the heart. Ignoring the blood pouring out of the body, he conjured a deathly expression that frightened even the most courageous (if you could call it that) which stopped them dead in their tracks.

Gregor took the opportune moment to strike at the stationary gang members, and the carnage of the battle began to build up far more. Blood spilled, flesh was torn apart...lives were lost. But Gregor did not care. He would slay all those that crossed his path, and in time, his relentless control began to shift more and more towards losing control.

Gregor vaguely remembered a time that seemed to be decades, no, centuries ago: losing control over his body against a squid attack, losing control against giant, red ants...

And in time, his vision receded, replaced by a placid, red color that allowed him to see nothing but rage. His control soon began to slip away...and then it was lost. Completely. Thoroughly. Absolutely. The blinding rage burned away intensely as his sword undulated and swiftly sliced into opponents.

And then it was over. Gregor came back into control, finding himself mortifyingly striking against a fallen arm, that spewed blood every now and then. The assault was over. The agonizing visions of the screams and bloodshed resounded mercilessly against Gregor's brain, and it was all he could do to not wail in these bowels of hell.

And then the sun went down. And the hell began.

It was the darkness that he despised the most. Every day, at this time. When the sun went down, all he could do was sit down and reflect mournfully on all he had lost and was rapidly losing.

Hope.

With his sisters. With his sisters...

Gregor quickly glanced around. An idiotic pickpocket, walking inconspicuously behind Gregor, hoping for a quick strike, was stabbed through is vocal cords, killing him. Besides that quick nuisance, there was no one else. Nobody else to share his pain with him...

Walking back to the ruined shambles of a home he possessed, Gregor now stared lifelessly at the one story home he had that he and his sisters had quickly moved in. And he had not been alone. Sure, he was an orphan, but he was not alone. He had someone to face the darkness with, someone to console, someone to console him...

And the atmosphere was so cheerful with Boots' innocent and mellow squeaks and affectionate questions filling the air, keeping Gregor placid and Lizzie away from having a panic attack.

Gregor longingly relished the panic attacks Lizzie had had. He missed them, and cherished them now. He bet that Lizzie had had a panic attack when she was killed. Those bastards...

And Boots! Who could bare to kill such innocent, memorable fifty four pounds of six year old? Gregor bet all the remaining items he had that she had been sweet and gallant to the end. He bet that when the door contemptuously slammed open, she had said, "Gregor? Are you okay?"

And when those bastards has come to finish her off, she probably couldn't bare the pain. She was wondering where Gregor had been, where he was, why he wasn't there, why he had let these killers into the house. Perhaps she had been sobbing inconsolably, wondering where Gregor was...and how he had failed her.

_How he had failed them._

Gregor's tears streaked his cheeks, and they trickled to the ground. His eyes were closed, but slowly opened, cherishing all that he had left of his sweet, innocent sisters: memories.

"Memories for life," Gregor tragically whispered, his lips barely moving, his voice cracking.

His feet slowly stalking the ground, Gregor echolocated his way to the residing guns that had been dropped and had idiotically not been put to use. Not that he was complaining.

When he was about a foot away from a gun, he stopped. Abruptly, he stopped. Then, he briskly picked up the gun, and grasped it tightly in his hand, alert to every single thing that moved. He would not let anyone take this satisfaction away from him. Not anybody.

Shrouded in black, Gregor looked at the gun with blurry eyes, hoping that they weren't betraying him. He wanted out of this living hell.

Slowly, but ambitiously, he pulled the gun to the side of his head. Placing a hand on a trigger, Gregor silently vowed to remeet with Boots and Lizzie. He didn't want to die in guilt...

"Boots," Gregor croaked, not bothering to fix his composure. "Boots. Lizzie. Mom, Dad. I'm coming."

And Gregor the Overlander applied pressure to the trigger, done with life, done with misery, done with this purgatory...

...And the gun was quickly yanked aside by a strenuous pressure. A grim Gregor turned around, angrily, only to look into eyes he thought he would never see again. Only to look at a body he never thought he'd see again. And the new arrival languidly spoke, his voice a rasp and snarl filled with quite rage.

"Your time has not come yet, boy."

**What do you think? Pretty depressing, is it not? I know some of you didn't like the near suicide, but...eh, it was the only way I could imagine things! Next chapter will be coming up soon! And once again, please take your time to review! **


	4. They took her

**Alright, it's good that I have mostly member reviews. So, that's a relief. To all those people who said my story was depressing and awesome: thank you. Warlordofdage, see if you can delete the warlordofnulgath account. Eulaliaaaa, Warlordofdage PMed me and says you don't approve of my violent story. Well, I am sorry about this, but this is the way I now envision Gregor, so, I can't change Gregor to being more light-hearted. Good, thank you for your approval. And yes, the prologue is a lot better at this moment. So, here is chapter 3. **

"It can't be," Gregor choked out in a voice full of awe and credibility.

"But it is," Ripred impressively replied in a deep, throaty voice that suggested to Gregor that food wasn't too well.

Gregor couldn't believe his ears. But he knew that voice. He knew that snide tone which had taunted and helped Gregor so many times. But how, pray tell, could this be happening?

There was no way Ripred could get here. Granted, he only lived MILES beneath the surface, and had no power to remove the rock from Central park. Or was he about to tell Gregor that he had come in through the laundry grate, surprising the HELL out of the people there and then come venturing towards him without so much as a cloak on?

It was unbelievable.

And the trust...Gregor found it hard to muster up any. Not after what he had been through.

And the silence returned. An awkward silence, Ripred wondering what was wrong with Gregor, and Gregor not understanding Ripred's purpose.

Finally, Ripred broke the silence. "Well, boy, what's wrong with you?"

"How did you get up here?" Came the ragged, suspicious reply.

"How do you think?" Ripred growled sardonically. "Well, first of all, it's not like I could fly up here or anything, but...y'know? With the help of a bat? Yeah, so, I didn't just jump up here. I went through the Central Park entrance, and using my senses, detected you! And that's all their is to it."

"Shut up, Ripred." Gregor grunted hoarsely, not in the mood for Ripred's demeaning sarcasm.

Gregor wasn't so sure if seeing Ripred was a good thing or bad thing. Granted, he hadn't seen Ripred in an elaborate period of time, but the rat's arrival heralded the dread of being involved in another arduous quest.

"Not so glad to see me?" Ripred grunted. "Fine. Then...," Ripred gestured to the fallen gun placidly, and then let out an outburst, "What the HELL were you doing, boy? What, you have a death wish or something? Live out your life!"

"Yes, I do have a death wish," Gregor dully muttered. "When you look out at these ruins, you see all these bombed cities. Terrorists attacks. And so many people die everyday. It's a living hell for everyone else, because the damage to their homes is more than insurance can cover. So I live life, everyday, in this hell."

Ripred growled back furiously, "And just let your family down like this?"

"I have no more family to let down," Gregor replied simply.

Ripred was about to continue raving, but was frozen for a calamitous second. Then, "What do you mean?"

Tears streaked Gregor's cheeks as he recalled the horrors of the day, the horrors of the years... "It all began four or so years ago, when the terrorist attacks began. My parents were killed that day. The attacks continued for four years, and I've been out everyday, fighting vigorously against it. I left my sisters in the barricaded house, and I came home to them everyday..."

Ripred's eyes widened in horror. "And your sisters...?" Ripred tentatively asked.

"I came home today...and I found them...d-dead..." Gregor immediately stopped talking, in the fear of letting out more tears. He couldn't handle anymore sorrow anymore. Not a damn ounce more of it.

"I'm sorry," Ripred implored. "Why are all the bodies here?" He gestured to the hundreds of bodies littering the area around them.

"I avenged Lizzie and Boots." Gregor simply replied, the words speaking for themselves.

Ripred stayed silent, the depth of the situation haunting him. Gregor had no life up here, no way to live...Ripred was vaguely reminded of a rat, fourteen years ago, whose family had drowned. The rat had tried to kill himself over and over...with a jolt, Ripred realized that the rat was him. And sorrow replaced the memories.

"I always thought you'd end up better than me." Ripred implored softly, his whispers affecting Gregor severely. "And now, look at us." Pausing for an instant, he sighed, and said, "Gregor...you and I are alike beyond comprehension."

"The loss of your family plays an instrumental role to doing that to you." Gregor's answer was void and remorseless, but they hit Ripred harshly, pricking into the soft flesh on his paws.

Slowly, the rat's breath grew more hasty and forced as he recalled the horrors and loss of life of that day. And he sat down, contemplating on what to do.

Gregor noticed the occurrence, paused, and then said, "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

Ripred looked up at Gregor, his eyes narrowed in grief. "Hmph. You didn't forget how to feel remorseful, at the very least. That's better than me. All I feel is humor, anger or some grief. Never remorse."

And at that moment, listening to Ripred's depiction of himself, Gregor realized that he wanted nothing more than to differ from Ripred. Not be like him. Be something better.

Be something better.

But here Gregor was now, amid the ruins of New York City, with no family. No family, no life, and no way to survive. How long would Gregor survive here now? What, months? A year at tops? Gregor knew that if massive gang invasions came like that, he would extrude all of his energy, and he would have nothing left but facing death.

Something he tried to do right now.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Gregor enigmatically questioned, hesitating for an unnoticeable second.

"Because!" Ripred furiously snarled. "It's me! Ripred! I haven't lied to you once, except for the times when I only sought your well-being! And now, you can't even trust me? Boy, I never taught you to be this cautious!"

"Well," Gregor said nonchalantly, "growing up in these ruins can do things to you."

Ripred looked around, confusedly, wondering how the depth of the affect these ruins had on Gregor could have occurred. Ripred was briefly reminded of the easily misled but righteous Gregor he had known fours years ago. The change that had overcome him was the change that he should've went through if one added four to...twenty six. Thirty years of change, all in fours years. Once again, Ripred was mirthlessly reminded of himself.

Turning to gaze at the ruined city, Gregor saw ruined buildings and run down shops with blood splattered everywhere. The place was shrouded in gloom and darkness, and the suspicious and nearly dead passerby were not as arbitrarily occurring as one would think. On the horizon sat the moon, seeming to mock the remains of this place, it's light glittering. Light. The one hope for so many people here...

Ripred shrugged.

"Well?" Gregor demanded to know Ripred's perspective on the place.

"Eh, not so different than what I've been through."

The overwhelming sorrow in Gregor's voice was masked by rage as he uttered, "Not everything has to be like you! Look at me! I lost so much in such little time! And I have to live in hell at the same time. I'm not used to what you are!"

Ripred paused, Gregor's malicious outburst tempting him to shout back. Instead, he replied, "You don't know how wrong you are about that."

Gregor's normal breathing resumed, and though the rage was still there, Gregor realized Ripred was right. He was far too much similar to the rat. "Ragers. They're twisted and tied." Gregor contemptuously said.

"You never used to be this hasty!" Ripred growled, anger threatening to overtake him.

"I just lost a damn family!" Gregor howled back, his seething rage making him act impulsively.

"And you think I don't KNOW ABOUT THAT?" Ripred roared back infernally and incredulously wondering how Gregor had the gall to say that. He lost his family, his life...just like Gregor. They were far too alike to even attempt using their experiences on each other.

Gregor sensed, rather than saw, the rat stiffen. "You do get right to the point," Ripred muttered softly, so softly he surely believed Gregor had not heard. Moving on, however, he said, "It was actually a hardship to even get this far. You probably don't know what I've risked to get here just to talk to you: my life."

"I'm anything but," Gregor replied, standing relatively still. He was still not too trusting of his old comrade, even though the rat had saved his life on many occasions in the past. Granted, he had been eleven on many of those occasions, but he owed Ripred enough respect to stay on the moment.

Gregor still stung from the reply Ripred had given to him. Though he knew he was wrong in saying so, Gregor honestly didn't have the time for a length reunion with Ripred. Envisioning an anxious family, Gregor's shoulders once more slumped down as he thought about the bloody reunion he had with his sisters...

The depression was far too much to counter. Ripred had talked to him long enough. Suddenly leaping at Ripred, Gregor grabbed the rat and pushed him about a foot away from him. Judging correctly, Gregor perceived that it would take five seconds for Ripred to leap at him and attack him.

And it would only take him three seconds to reach the gun. Grabbing the gun hurriedly, Gregor swung it against his head, and prepared to pull the trigger... only to have his actions halted by Ripred.

"You'd really do it?" Ripred softly asked. "Would you?"

"Yes." Gregor clenched his teeth strenuously. "I would."

"But you never asked me why I came." Ripred placidly said, letting the words speak for themselves.

"Why did you come, Ripred?" Gregor asked desperately, wanting to just pull the trigger.

Ripred paused dramatically, and then said lowly, "They took her."

Immediately, the gun clattered to the ground, and Ripred dashed towards it, crushing it under his firm paw. And he redirected his attention to Gregor. "They took her, Gregor." And he hunched his head over in enigmatic sorrow.

"Who?" Gregor barely mouthed out, wanting Ripred to desperately deny who Gregor knew it was. But the rat would do no such thing. It was...her.

Scrutinizing Ripred with horror struck eyes, Gregor surveyed the rat as being genuinely sad.

And then Ripred said the words that would change Gregor's perspective on his life forever.

"They took her, Gregor."

"They took the queen, the unifier, the peace maker...

"They took Luxa."

And the way Ripred avoided Gregor's eyes gave the answer Gregor needed.

**The chapter is really short, but it tells you a lot. Not my best work, but I'll make other chapters really long. And this is a rewrite of rise of death, so unfortunately, they go into the Cutter Lair again, but I'll make that around two chapters. And there is going to be a twist. Then, I'll have the main action with the Soul Harvesters. **


	5. Still alive

**So, hello people. It seems that Warlordofnulgath is causing quite a ruckus. Well...forget about HIM. Ok, so, here is your chapter four. **

Gregor couldn't move, less he keel over and fall due to the agonizing pain that lay strewn within him.

Perhaps if he still had a heart, it would have resounded like a countless number of pounds. As it was, however, a hole in his chest horrendously expanded continuously, leaving Gregor to fend for himself.

It started out as a murmur. And then it grew into a low moan as agony slipped through the cracks in Gregor's perfect composure, which only masked the emotions that he felt. Staring at Ripred in pain, Ripred obliviously stared back, ostensibly only finding out what that meant at the moment.

They took her, Gregor.

They took Luxa.

"Who...?" Gregor croaked, not even bothering to readjust his voice. "Who? Who took her?"

Ripred darkly stared down at his feet, now swathed in blood, for a moment, pondering on how to explain. Finally, the rat opened his mouth, and hollowly said, "The Cutters. They swarmed in, and they took her. We tried...we tried to go against them...couldn't do a damn thing..."

"And why not?" Gregor suddenly shot back, arresting the process of Ripred's explanation, intent on blaming the problem on anyone he could.

"What the hell do you think, boy?" Ripred snarled ludicrously backed at Gregor, clearly angry that it was being hinted he could've done something more. "You think I can just go up the Cutters and with one wallop, kill all of them? Unfortunately, I am not the superman you believe me to be." Those last words were laced with venom, but Gregor chose to ignore them.

Instead, Gregor asked, "Why...?", clearly meaning to muster out, why did they take her?

Ripred impatiently sighed, and then snapped, "Do you have to ask?" Staring at Gregor's blank expression, he decided to approach a more indirect affront. "Well, to figure that out, you'd have to know what's been going on. As you know, the humans and rats have solidified their alliance, and have also allied themselves with pretty much everyone that they could.

"The Spinners, Diggers, Stingers, you name it. And they already had the nibblers and bats. So, the humans were pretty well off.

"Except for the fact that the Cutters wouldn't join them. The Cutters are dangerous. They are superior in terms of numbers, strength and locomotive. The Cutters have one thing in mind: serve the queen and protect their land. And what with the humans having pushed the Gnawers onto their land," Ripred gesticulated with one furry paw, "you can see that we aren't exactly best buddies with the Cutters.

"But the Cutters are feeling threatened now, I assume, due to the large alliance placed against them. Granted, their are still countless creatures neutral, but it's not like their nature is getting them any new pals soon.

"Due to the threatening position of the humans, the Cutters decided to strike first, attacking the alliance. And you tell me, who is responsible for the whole alliance?" Ripred asked Gregor triumphantly, already knowing the answer that would emerge from Gregor.

"...The humans..." Gregor said rather reluctantly, deliberately, just to appease Ripred.

"Bingo!" Ripred over-enthusiastically said. Turning away from Gregor, he abruptly glanced back with a dark glint to his eye. "And what better way than to strike the alliance than to take out its leader?" Ripred snidely questioned.

Gregor had to admit, Ripred's quick reasoning matched perfectly in the chain of events. "There is no better way," Gregor impassively conjectured, the argument taken out of him. And then, "So I suppose Luxa has been queen for a while now?"

"Yeah, she has," Ripred passively said. "And I have to admit, she's a damn good queen. Had a profound impact on everyone. I have to admit, she's done way more than I or Vikus have done. I mean, look at it! She has basically all known creatures in an alliance, something I couldn't even get between two groups!"

"So I guess Luxa has been faring well?" Gregor tentatively mentioned, hoping that the answer would be yes.

"No, I can't say she has." Ripred gravely answered the question. "A ruler is inept if they don't have some sort of stress on them, and I have to say, stress has had a profound impact on Luxa. I mean, she isn't exactly an old lady with white hair," Ripred gestured to his fur, "but she isn't doing well. Same looks, basically, but a lot of creases on her forehead. And, she's not really happy."

"Why not?" Gregor asked in a gravelly voice, subsequently evading the answer. But it came to him anyways.

"Well, there's stress, the issue with the Cutters, and...," Ripred paused uncomfortably. "Can you handle this without going berserk?"

Gregor ineptly nodded, and Ripred continued. "She has mediocre suitors who are being issued to her. By the council."

"Wasn't the council killed off?" Gregor supposed, astounded. Gregor vaguely recalled the notion of Luxa being sole ruler, after the council was killed off. Yes, he remembered clearly, Solovet and Ripred had both remarked that now the council was dead, Luxa was the ruler of Regalia.

"Yes, it was," Ripred vigorously nodded for no apparent reason. "However, a new council was set in place to relieve the pressure from Luxa." Gregor could see the point that was buried in this. It would have been up to her to maintain relationship with the rats and others creatures, as well as stabilizing the quickly crumbling Regalia.

"And now, these old fools worry about perhaps the most inept matter of the lot." Ripred intolerantly waved his paws, not noticing the disguised anguish coating Gregor's face.

"Who's going to marry her..." Gregor whispered barrenly, already despising the new council.

"Don't worry," Ripred quickly said. "She doesn't even like a single one of them." When Gregor's expression remained conflicted, Ripred hastily added, "She really loved you, Gregor. Everyday for about a month after you left, she quietly sat on a bed, tears lacing her cheeks. I could hear her barely audibly whisper your name. I'm telling you, she really loved you."

"And what about after that?" Gregor whispered back, not able to talk any further.

"She's a good leader, and she ostensibly doesn't seem to remember you." Suddenly catching glimpse of the extremely pained look on Gregor's face, Ripred, angry at himself for using the choice of words that he did, curtly said, "But every night, she always thinks about you. She whispers your name, and tells "you" about all she had done today and if you approved of her. So the memory of you forever prolongs greater matters in her mind."

Gregor still had the controversial expression stained onto his face, and a merciful Ripred carried on the conversation, "So, anyways, the Cutters...I really don't know exactly what they could do to her."

"I thought you said all they were going to do was take Luxa and ruin the alliance by doing so. What else could they do to her besides killing her?" Gregor brusquely replied.

"No, don't be so pessimistic boy." Ripred growled in a low, conflicted voice. "Don't ever say that. And no, I don't think they'd kill her. All they need is for her to be out of the way, and that's it. Maybe they'll keep her alive, maybe they'll torture her-"

At that moment, Gregor's stopped listening to Ripred's rambling, and horrendously gasped. Luxa...being tortured? No. No.

No.

She couldn't take it. Granted, she had gone through a lot and had seen many things in her life, but she couldn't take torture. They'd kill her without her realizing it. They would dwindle down her spirit and attack her.

They would hurt her.

Ripred paused curtly, looking at the agonized Gregor. Wondering what had gone wrong with him, Ripred suddenly remembered: "maybe they'll keep her alive, maybe they'll torture her-" Realizing his harsh mistake, Ripred countered it by saying: "Maybe. I said, maybe. You never know. And the Cutters are very narrow minded. They may just forget about her all in all!"

Gregor, who felt no better, glumly countered, "If they were broad enough to do this, then they won't forget about her."

"Anyways," Ripred hurriedly continued on, "We don't necessarily know their motives."

"What do you mean?" A befuddled Gregor asked.

"What I mean is that if the Cutters were going to kill her, why didn't they just go and kill her right on the spot?" Ripred cleverly inquired.

"They actually came to Regalia?" Gregor, astounded, asked, thinking of their sheer numbers.

"Yes. Now, you obviously don't know what happened, do you?" Ripred asked. Without waiting for answer, Ripred mournfully began, "We were in an alliance. All of us. All those species. So many of them! Just think about it. For once in the, what, last hundreds of years, maybe, we had a large alliance! We were unbeatable!"

"Get on with the story," Gregor bitterly grumbled, rolling his eyes at Ripred's expression.

"Yes, so...it was a cold day." Ripred paused, forcing him to deny himself of the horrors of the day. "It was such a cold day, and I knew something would go wrong. But there was nothing I could do about it."

"About what?" Gregor virtually screamed, demanding to avoid such unnecessary details.

Surprised at Gregor's enigmatic impatience, Ripred hastily hurried on, "That day, we discovered that the agitated Cutters had struck upon some gnawers and has killed all of them.

"We gnawers desired to put up an army against the Cutters, but Luxa and I wanted to calculate a strategy we could possibly use to beat back the Cutters. But we found none. Time grew near, and the Cutters continued their relentless march.

"In the end, we regretfully decided to fight," Ripred paused for a moment, rolling his eyes. "And thus, we went out into the battlefield, with Luxa watching over us. However, even with the queen's support, and my fighting abilities, as well as a couple of other well seasoned warriors, the fight was arduous."

"Wait," Gregor interjected jerkily. "The Cutters aren't all so tough. Or do you not remember the time when we were searching for the Starshade and were assaulted by them?"

Ripred snorted in derision. "Well, you do have me beat. But remember, that was only a couple of hundreds of them, and we had ourselves equipped with myself. If I recall, we also had a giant lizard bicycling into a lot of Cutters. And there was probably some amateurish luck for your part there. Some rager phenomenon, I don't know."

Gregor took the insult without question, but pressed on, "And what happened during your arduous fight?"

"Well, we avoided much bloodshed, and for the most part, we were able to keep them out of Regalia." Ripred replied.

"For the most part?" Gregor asked, sounding stupid, but did not pay attention to it.

"Yes," Ripred sighed, "some ants fought through us or simply found openings into Regalia and went through them. And thus, we counted about fifteen to thirty Regalians dead. Luckily, the number was not more. And as for the fight, we were starting to get pushed back. Me, I was in the thick of it, slicing through them all but having more quickly assault me."

"How many did you kill?" Gregor briefly inquired.

"Must've been at least one thousand." Ripred smiled sadistically, obviously happy with his scored. Quickly darkening again, he recalled, "Yes, but a large mass of Cutters left the battle before we could see them. We were so caught up in the fight with the larger group that we didn't see the dismissal of the smaller group. And before they knew it, they had Luxa. Don't ask ME where the HELL Aurora was during this." Obviously, the rat was furious with the bat, and Gregor sensed that perhaps Ripred thought it was an action of treason. However, if Gregor could perceive one thing about Aurora it was that she cared about Luxa. Gregor automatically knew Ripred was wrong.

"You're wrong about that, Ripred," he quietly but stiffly spoke. "Aurora loves Luxa. If you think she just let them take her, you're wrong. And what the hell is she supposed to do against all those cutters? Hell, she couldn't even take on one tree snake."

"Think what you want about that," Ripred gruffly countered Gregor's convicing statement. "The result was the same. Luxa was taken."

"And you didn't even try to go after her?" Gregor's voice had suddenly risen significantly, and Ripred, surprised by this affront, remained silent.

After a brief pause, he whispered, "What?" The voice was outwardly innocent and in disbelief, but Gregor suspected it's inwardness to be conniving and devious.

"I said, didn't you try to go after her? What were you doing there? Just watching her?" Gregor asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Of course I tried!" Ripred growled. "What do you think I did? I ran after her! But we were only able to kill one Cutter! And it was at the cost of one bat and many injured humans!"

At the ludicrous price for just one Cutter, Gregor snapped, his fiery temper finally revealed to Ripred. "So you failed her, huh?" Gregor yelled at Ripred. "You could only take down one Cutter for her...some fighter you are!"

"We tried to..." Ripred was cut off by Gregor's rage.

"You tried to what? Save her? Well, you failed! And you ask me to believe that YOU took down over a thousand Cutters? What, did you just let her be taken!"

"No, boy, you have to understand..." Ripred pleaded with Gregor.

"Understand WHAT!" Gregor wheeled around to face Ripred. "All I understand is that you failed Luxa!" Taking assertive steps towards him, Gregor stopped, bent down, and sneered at the rat's face, now at his eye level. "Just like you failed your family."

One moment. Then two. And then...Gregor regretted thinking he'd actually been angry. A ferocious snarl was let out from Ripred, and he howled in agony and rage, intertwined intricately into one. And the rat lunged at a deadly speed at Gregor, who braced himself for the impact.

The impact sent Gregor skidding across the pavement, his ruined shoes striking it as he slid. Getting up quickly, Gregor angrily rushed towards Ripred, his incentive to strike the rat down and restrain him. Unfortunately, as he picked up a piece of pipe and swung it at Ripred, the rat almost lackadaisically arrested Gregor's movement and parried his blows, the result an even more reduced piece of pipe in Gregor's hand.

Flinging the minuscule object aside, Gregor monstrously charged at Ripred, who returned the same action, his sense preceding his rage. Ripred abruptly leaped at Gregor, who scarcely had the time to parry before he was knocked to the ground.

Ugh, Gregor thought disgustedly as the six hundred pounds of rat that was Ripred laid on top of him, eyeing Gregor, his face locked into a deadly and menacing scowl. He snarled at Gregor, "Yes, the way I failed my family...the way YOU have failed ME." Snagging Gregor by the collar of his shirt, Gregor suddenly found himself flung into the air. Falling down in a rumpled heap near another piece of pipe, Gregor stole a quick glance at it. All he needed to get it was an occupation for Ripred...a chance.

Ripred never gave him that chance.

Provoked by Gregor's insult, Ripred relentlessly charged at Gregor, his grave but yet threatening voice allowing the depth of his endeavor to be realized by Gregor, "You, boy, will understand what a true fail is. And my example, is YOU." The rat lunged at Gregor, who realized that his provocation came out without his approval.

Even if he had retained control over his body, even if he wasn't so angry, it would've come out. "Just like you failed your family."

"Just like you failed your family."

_Just like you failed your family. Just like he had failed HIS family. _

Gregor abruptly realized the extent of the pain he had caused Ripred. Who was he, to tell the rat he had failed his family? Hadn't his family just died in front of him? His mother and father had pushed him out of the way, and he was too stupefied by the damn explosions to even give a damn about them. And now, his sisters had been brutally mauled to death...because he had failed them. He had failed them. Vivid memories-and unwanted, as well-suddenly poured into Gregor's head, memories he had tried so hard to forget, memories he never would forget...memories in which he had failed people.

_Gregor stood, belittled, intimidated, awestruck and terrified as the strident and thunderous sounds rumbled in his ears, as the spectacular yet perilous explosions became discernible and visible to him._

_He was in Manhattan, where skyscrapers belittled him, where the crowded, robust streets bustled with activity. But this was to be no more, courtesy to these explosions._

_It had been one, then two, then numerous agile jets streaking across the sky, firing stealthily upon the Empire State Building, and then many more towering office buildings, which no longer threateningly loomed over him. In their place, he noticed, was the smoke rising from the blackened ruins of the once magnificent buildings._

_Explosions were ubiquitous...undulating...and suddenly Gregor heard a shriek, and was shoved roughly aside, the force knocking him over...just barely allowing him to avoid an immense piece of steel that fell from somewhere in the sky. Gregor's interest was immediately replaced with worry and concern, as he noticed the splattered blood that littered the floor around the rock. Quickly lifting a side up, Gregor struggled to hold the heavy weight up, attempting to balance it with his strength. Looking underneath the rock, Gregor envisioned the grotesque sight underneath the rock..._

_...And the sight knocked the pure will to hold up the steel, let alone stand, and Gregor collapsed to the floor, screaming, shouting, and vomiting._

_His parents._

_Underneath the heavy piece of steel, lay his parents now grotesque and greatly disfigured corpses. His parents had saved him...they had pushed him aside so that he wouldn't die. But they had sacrificed their lives for him to live._

_And he couldn't take the pain._

* * *

_Gregor knocked on the barricaded door, awaiting the muffled but sweet reply: "Gregor, Gregor, I missed you!" or the timid but indeed jovial reply, "Gregor? Is that you? I'm glad!"_

_Instead, he heard nothing._

_His knocking persisted, not caring if it attracted noise or not. What was wrong? Why wouldn't they open the door? Did something happen? Thinking of what had happened to his parents, Gregor's knocking hastened, and when they still didn't come to the door, Gregor worriedly smashed opened a window that was heavily concealed to the local passerby. Crawling in, Gregor was disappointed to find his sisters not there._

_But he was terrified to find the blood. Oh, the horrors of the blood! It was spread everywhere, over the furniture, over the walls, and over the floor. It led into the kitchen._

_Precariously following the trail of cloying blood, Gregor looked up in the kitchen..._

_...And screamed. He screamed and screamed, but he had no parents to come to his aid. He was alone._

_On the curvaceous floor, lay the bloody bodies of his sisters. Boots and Lizzie. Dead._

_Gregor fell to the floor, desperately waiting for the tears to fall out. But none did. He had lost his ability to shed tears, he had realized._

_"No! NO! NO!"_

* * *

"NOOOOOO!"

All at once, Gregor realized, through the tears trickling down his cheeks, that he had stopped retaliating against the vicious killing machine that stood feet away from him.

And Gregor realized that whether he had sense, or was insane with anger, he still would have made the remark he had made. Maybe he knew he would get into a terrible fight with Ripred. He knew he would lose. He knew Ripred would not hold back.

He knew Ripred would kill him.

But all was well.

That was what he had wanted, for so long, for so much time...and Ripred was granting it to him. He had long left hope for his life. There was nothing left for him here. This was what he wanted, what he craved for, what he desired for so long...

To die.

Life was meaningless for him. Worthless. Like a toy a child had had for years and had worn down.

And it was over. Life had turned into a living nightmare once Ripred had brought the grievous news: Luxa was dead.

He desperately turned over to Ripred, wanting the finish blow to be delivered as swiftly and deadly as possible...and realized it was not to come. Ripred stood a few feet away, quietly approaching Gregor, his head cocked and his eyes tinted with...worry?

Gregor sat up, wanting to know what was wrong. "What?" He managed to croak out. "Why...why?"

Ripred spoke gently, yet Gregor recalled a moment not so long ago that the rat had stated. Whereas the malice and anger were different in both words, the message was the same.

_His feet slowly stalking the ground, Gregor echolocated his way to the residing guns that had been dropped and had idiotically not been put to use. Not that he was complaining._

_When he was about a foot away from a gun, he stopped. Abruptly, he stopped. Then, he briskly picked up the gun, and grasped it tightly in his hand, alert to every single thing that moved. He would not let anyone take this satisfaction away from him. Not anybody._

_Shrouded in black, Gregor looked at the gun with blurry eyes, hoping that they weren't betraying him. He wanted out of this living hell._

_Slowly, but ambitiously, he pulled the gun to the side of his head. Placing a hand on a trigger, Gregor silently vowed to remeet with Boots and Lizzie. He didn't want to die in guilt..._

_"Boots," Gregor croaked, not bothering to fix his composure. "Boots. Lizzie. Mom, Dad. I'm coming."_

_And Gregor the Overlander applied pressure to the trigger, done with life, done with misery, done with this purgatory..._

_...And the gun was quickly yanked aside by a strenuous pressure. A grim Gregor turned around, angrily, only to look into eyes he thought he would never see again. Only to look at a body he never thought he'd see again. And the new arrival languidly spoke, his voice a rasp and snarl filled with quite rage._

_"Your time has not come yet, boy."_

"You're time has not come yet, Gregor."

"Why?" Gregor cried out blithely, his voice tinted with rage and exasperation. "Why? Life is just a damn nightmare for me. LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT MY LIFE! I have no family, no life, no home...and no Luxa." Gregor recalled that he thought it had been appalling when he had had to leave Luxa, leave the Underland. He had been living in another world from her...but to live a life with no Luxa...Gregor vaguely recalled that he had had a gun. Where was it? He tentatively moved his head, recoiling from the shock he got.

"Gregor," Ripred hoarsely pleaded, in agony, with Gregor. "Boy. Listen. Listen to me. Please."

Hearing Ripred say "please" was perhaps the greatest miracle that had ever concurred, to Gregor. Taken aback at this miracle, Gregor's attention wavered from finding the gun and looked pointedly at Ripred. And right at that moment, deep in the bowels of his chest, the organ that had stimulated the flow of blood in his body had given the faintest flicker. And it continued to broaden as Ripred spoke.

"She's alive, Gregor. She's alive."

And for a moment, Ripred's languid demeanor returned.

**Like it? Yes, I know, some of it comes from earlier chapters...pretty depressing, huh? PM me if you want me to change adventure to angst. Don't worry, nobody dies...I hope. C'mon people...I want reviews! Just take a few seconds of your life to do this for me. **


	6. Going Down

**Thank you for the fabulous reviews, people! Well, I've been receiving many questions from many people, about how they enjoyed the gloom, but not Gregor's insanity. Well, this chapter will signify the increase in Gregor's mood, and he won't be so insane. AND ALSO, I'M IN BANGLADESH RIGHT NOW! THIS ACCOUNTS FOR WHY I CAN BARELY USE THE INTERNET TO UPDATE!  
**

Gregor stood rigidly, frozen into the position he had been in for minutes. To him, it didn't matter. But time mattered to him now.

Perhaps it was deliberate, what Ripred had done. Perhaps he had wanted to pull a peevish prank upon an unsuspecting and hardened Gregor.

But still yet, perhaps Ripred had simply forgot about the situation and found it more proper to emphasize on the original event: Luxa had been kidnapped.

But instead, Gregor had felt torment and deprivation for needless moments that could have been avoided, that could have never happened. Instead, the burdens of Ripred's words had held him in purgatory for worthless moments.

For a brief moment, Gregor stared blankly at Ripred. The sudden outburst, "And you decided to keep this from me because of WHAT? You've tormented me, you've made me want to just die, why didn't you just tell me, "Luxa has been taken by the Cutters, I need you to help me find her,'! "

Ripred replied meanderingly back, "Could you handle it?"

"And why the hell would I not?" Gregor ferociously yelled back, his voice laced with venom. "It's simple. Just tell me you need my help to find Luxa. Goddamn! Can't you just be blunt?"

The ominous silence only delayed the ferocious reply, "Blunt? Blunt? You want me to be blunt? Look at your entire damn last four years. Your family died BLUNTLY. Is that what you want? For everything to be blunt, so that the grasp of the situation eludes you?"

"No, I don't," Gregor snarled in retort. "But it would have been nice if I didn't have to face all that anguish I just did,"

"Well, now I just revealed it all to you. The Cutters kidnapped Luxa, and are going to torture her. Blunt enough?" Ripred snarled back.

Gregor stood in hesitation for a moment, and then queried, "And what have the other creatures been doing about it? Aren't they trying to go after Luxa?" At this, Ripred sighed.

"You'd have to understand the situations of the creatures. I'll begin with the malicious gnawers.

"The Gnawers are greedy, selfish, and fight only for themselves. And even then, a lot of them hate each other. Given the alliance, Gnawers have proved to handle more...sophisticated stability, but their undermining selfishness remains yet. I'm telling you, boy, the Gnawers are too wrapped up in their own stuff right now. And, I might add, the Cutters BELITTLE the Gnawers in numbers and in incentive."

"Alright, so the Gnawers are no help." Gregor shook his head in disgust, aghast at the petrified change in the Gnawers. It was as if time had stopped for them, and it was not possible to inflict change upon them, and they would always correspond to the beasts they were four years ago. "What about the other creatures? The crawlers?"

"The Crawlers remain pessimistic as ever, fearing everything that garners danger towards them. They wouldn't go out and confront the Cutters unless the world collapsed on them. You can't expect change to come so soon.

"The Stingers are very few in number, and as it is, they remain as a possible threat to us, if they decide that their alliance with us is not worthwhile.

"The other creatures also stand no chance against the Cutters, except the extremely devious and tactful ally that we hope to ensure our alliance with-the Spinners."

"What's so outstanding about the Spinners?" Gregor mulled, his recollections collecting as he envisioned his previous encounters with them: running straight into their horrendous web, being held prisoner...rescuing Luxa. Gregor suddenly found himself alert for a reason he could not even wildly conjecture.

"The Spinners are perhaps the only allies we have that can go against the Cutters in number, tact, and incentive. Their numbers are vast, and they obey their queen and their queen only, who remains troubled on the Cutter's behavior. So for the time being, they're with us."

"And what are they doing to save Luxa?" Gregor harshly inquired, his patient demeanor slowly being whittled away.

"They are establishing garrisons, and forces against the Cutters, to ensure that they will be spared the brunt of an impending Cutter invasion." Ripred solemnly replied, sensing Gregor's pure agitation.

"The nibblers and shiners are taking cover behind higher powers, am I right?" Gregor snarled, his perplexing rage taking form.

"...Yeah, that much is true." Ripred forlornly spoke, his insight on the future of the humans at this rate to horrifying to even speak about.

"You said before that the Spinners might go on the Cutter's side, something to that effect. Why?" A perplexed Gregor questioned Ripred, who gravely stared back at Gregor, causing him to lower his hard gaze.

"I haven't ever told anyone this before," the rat confided secretively. "Well, to tell the truth, everyone is just dancing around the truth, letting their hopes lead them to false conclusions.

"We don't know their motives."

These five words stopped Gregor dead in his tracks, and he looked back at the undulating rat, who merely flicked his tail in an absentminded way to occupy himself. "Excuse me?" Gregor choked out, confounded on Ripred's dauntless conclusion.

"You heard me," the rat went on to confirm his words, "We don't know the Spinner's motives. Who knows? Maybe they might just go to the Cutter's side. I mean, they don't really care about us. All they want is to gain power, gain strength...but would the Cutters ally with them?" Ripred vigilantly pondered. "Perhaps the Spinners will help us take down the Cutters, and then turn against us."

The cold but calculating and true conclusions hung in the dreary air, leaving behind an uncomfortable and despairing atmosphere. "No..." Gregor whispered in pain.

"Yes." Ripred gravely confirmed. "It's really terrible to have to fight against a godly enemy, and have to always watch your back against another godly group."

Pausing for an unlikely moment, Gregor hastily continued his persistent questioning, "And what are the other humans doing about this? You come up here, and choose me. Did you even go through all the other options?" Gesticulating wildly, Gregor suddenly whipped around, and demanded, "Why me?"

Ripred inconveniently paused for an incredulous moment. On the rat's face was an expression plastered on that made Gregor think that Ripred's thought that his question was ludicrous. "There are many people that would risk life and limb to go in their and save Luxa. So many...

"Howard. Take him, for example. He would throw himself in that lair from 100 miles above the ground, not caring how he ended up as long as he contributed to the effort of getting Luxa out of there. Of course, noticing Howard's fighting skills, he would end up in an uncountable amount of pieces against just one cutter.

"Now, take Hazard. Now, I must confide, it is probably he who is most disturbed by the coinciding disappearance of Luxa. Now, if he were to go in that lair, he would throw himself at the Cutters, who would tear him to bits. Even if he had a sword...in the time that it would take for him to learn how to wield it properly, thousands of Cutters would surround him and kill him.

"Probably wasn't the best idea for his pacifist of a father Hamnet to decree that Hazard should not be trained in the art of fighting," remarked Ripred ruefully. "But it's his son, not mine...and anyways, I don't suppose Hamnet could have forseen THIS hell coming to light.

"Now...Luxa's bond, Aurora...," Ripred paused in disgust, pounding his hairy knuckles on the diminutive concrete, "Hell, she couldn't even go against a tree snake before she got her wing dislodged. And it's too much trouble for her to face off against even a single rat!" Ripred snarled curtly about Aurora, and abruptly, for the time being, he ostensibly forgot about her. "Now, Ares...he was a strong one, wasn't he? Perhaps he would have the strength to take Cutters to high altitudes in the air, and then drop them down. And his overwhelming strength would enable him to rip off their heads if they gave him any resistance.

"...And there are many generals in the city, the most memorable and worthy of them all being Mareth. Now, in his case...fueled by fury and remorse, even with one leg, he'd charge right into that lair and do what he could. Now, this is an estimate...maybe five? Maybe ten? Yes, he'd take down about ten cutters and then be killed.

"Obviously, there are only a few select people who are fit to be able to go under this arduous and lengthy rescue with me.

"One of those people is me." Ripred languidly said, a brief glimpse of self satisfaction flickering across his face. Circling methodically around Gregor, the rat suddenly lashed out his tail. A scarce moment later, Gregor found himself clutching the tail in a pressurizing grip. On cue, he let go.

"And one of those people is you, Gregor. And that," the rat surmised, "Is why I came up to you."

Standing silently for a moment, Gregor stupidly asked, "Why not lead an invasion in?"

Ripred snarled in apparent disgust, "Boy, stop beating around the bush! You know what would happen to the army if we did that; the Cutters would slaughter them!"

Gregor shook his head in derision. But before he could speak, Ripred roared, "What's wrong with you boy? It's like you don't even want to go back! It's like you don't care about it anymore!"

"Precisely why I ask you this," Gregor replied without a moment's notice. "What if I don't go with you?"

An uncomfortable silence spread across the two of them, the tension building up as the evil laughter of a thug resounded in the distance, the all-too familiar sound of a gunshot also resounding in the distance. And then the voice filled with quiet rage,

"What?"

"I beg your pardon?" Gregor sincerely asked, sounding like the whimsical boy he had once been so long ago. "Please rep-"

A queasy feeling blossomed throughout Gregor's stomach, and an impulsive pain spread onto his face. Gregor abruptly noted himself to be flailing through the air and suddenly, he fell onto the ground. It was Ripred. Ripred had just attacked him. Gregor instinctively rubbed his face, and observed the crimson tinted fingers that came back.

"To answer your question, I'll do that again 100 times harder and 100 times higher." Ripred's intimidatating demeanor startled even Gregor, who sat up, looking at Ripred in surprise.

And then, "Even I have to wonder if you can pull that one off that much harder," Gregor said amusingly.

"Shut up, Gregor. Just shut up!" Ripred bitterly growled, his annoyed voice obviously pointing towards his anger. "All I came up here for was for you to just help me, and you haven't done anything to help! You're being worthless! It's like you don't want Luxa to survive at all!"

Gregor's whimsical and almost amused attitude quickly faded away. However, his evident anger quickly ebbed into Gregor's empty spots, and before Ripred could register it, Gregor snatched up a gun from the ground and pointed it at Ripred. His hands showed no signs of shaking, and Gregor's facial features were grim, to say the very least.

"Don't you say that. Don't you ever say that," Gregor warned. " Don't! I just lost a whole, damn family...but I still have Luxa! And I need to go and find her! I couldn't live any other way! Without Luxa, I'd be nothing! Ripred, don't you understand? I love her...I love Luxa!" Gregor fell to the ground in anguish, dropping his gun, caring for it in no way. Tears refused to come out of his eyes, though his heart throbbed in pain.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. And then Ripred gently implored, "Ready to go?"

Gregor looked up, his eyes reflecting fierce determination. "Ready as I'll ever be." He confidently replied.

* * *

It was an odd duo, the visitors speculated at Central Park. It was a tall, muscular and oddly scarred boy who looked hardened beyond the point of caring. And then there was that cloaked, hunched over man (one had to wonder if man properly described the...thing), whose spiky, unsightly grey hair that poked out frightened a few of the pedestrians. Nonetheless, those who even cared to notice had too many matters of their own to interrogate them.

However, when the boy shoved aside a rock propped against a statue, a random police officer decided to intervene into the matter, noticing a dark, deep passageway that paved the way to some sort of place.

"Hey!" The police officer yelled. "Hey you! What are you doing? You are under arrest for-"

"Shut up." The boy coldly intervened. "Do not get in our way."

The police officer was stunned by their cold demeanor, and felt obligated to reach for his gun. Putting his hand to his pocket, he reached for it...only to find nothing.

"Looking for this?" The cloaked mans snide voice, deep and throaty, cut through the air, waved the gun from his...paws? That was enough for the police officer. When doing his job led him into this, then he refused to do anything at all.

"AHHHHH!" The threatened man screamed, running away, oblivious to the scene of a lackadaisical gangster pointing a gun at him. Within seconds a pool of blood blossomed upon his shirt. Gregor merely snatched the gun from Ripred, and pointed it at the laughing gangster. Within seconds, he too fell dead to the ground.

"Enough!" Ripred savagely snarled. "Let's go, before you get us any more unwanted attention!"

Gregor merely complied with Ripred, refusing to argue or backtalk the rat, for Gregor knew Ripred was right. Gregor had just avenged the police officer. But deep inside him, Gregor wanted to be uneffected by emotions, to be impervious to remorse...to not show mercy. To him, mercy was a sign of weakness, and he knew Ripred didn't tolerate weakness. What he did just now was show mercy...and to the Cutters, he would show no mercy.

"Focus, boy!" Ripred's voice meddled into Gregor's deep thoughts. "Pull the rock over the entrance!"

Gregor merely acknowledged the order by carrying it out. He then turned to look at Ripred, and smirked, "Hey, no need to rush me, I was getting to it. One of the things I like to do is take my time."

"Well then, I don't approve of your ethics!" Ripred said in an extremely restrained and controlled voice.

"Hey, takes one to know one!" Gregor snapped back. "And are you going to let us know how we are getting down there? Not all of us have wings, you know!"

Ripred ceased his reply as the deep and commanding voice suddenly broke in, "Are you two simpletons going to argue all day or come with me?"

Gregor instantaneously whirled around, maintaining his footwork, ignoring Ripred's snide remark, "I was trying to say, we've got it covered!" Gregor clicked rapidly, aiming for the focal point of this target. What he saw made his heart stop beating for the slightest moment. What he saw was a colossal black bat that perfectly blended in with the surroundings. Horns rose from the impressive and fierce looking head, and the otherwise grotesque teeth were pulled together in a smile that brought Gregor far above the highest of heavens, while also sending him plummeting towards the darkest corners in the depths of hell. What he felt for a moment was something he considered a ludicrous assertation...but did he just feel love?

"Ares...?" He breathed, his brain screaming at him that a prospect such as that was entirely unreal. How could Ares have horns? Nonetheless, though Gregor's heart could not fathom a response to such a question, Gregor couldn't place such an immense black bat in a category other than being Ares...

"Ares?" The bat boomed, laughing. "The traitor?"

Instantaneously, all the senses of feeling and understanding dissolved into nothingness. And in the same instant, intractable and vicious anger were hurled into Gregor's heart, and with all the fury he could muster up, he lunged at the bat, whose confident and secure composure quickly disintegrated into an anger that was expressed in a vicious bare. The anger expressed was not even something Gregor wanted to tangle with, though his heightened rager senses refused to withdraw from the attempt to terminate the bat.

Ripred, however, had a different idea, as he flicked Gregor's leg with his tail. Gregor merely lost his balance but continued his run. "You, boy, need to stop!" Ripred growled emphatically, this time whipping out his tail in an almost frantic endeavor to assure that Gregor would never reach the bat, knowing that blood would be shed if he did. This bat was not the ordinary.

Gregor, not noticing Ripred until it was too late, tripped inadvertently as the tail whipped against his legs, knocking him down. Without wasting a moment to gloat over Gregor's carelessness, he whipped around and threw himself at the bat's cumbersome wings, knocking the behemoth down.

With a tactical somersault, he flung himself down between the two of them, and said, "Bad start. So not what we need right here. Let's start again. Boy, you introduce yourself first."

Gregor heatedly gazed at the bat and said, "Gregor. The Warrior. Enough said."

The bat's corresponding response, consisting of an irritable glare at Gregor, was, "Thanatos. Most powerful bat in the Underland. Of no relation to your bond, Ares." And yet, though the tension between the two was already at a boiling point, and the time was not right, to say the least, Thanatos, with a smirk brimming with mischief, whispered, "The traitor."

Before Gregor could respond, Ripred let out a low growl that worked it's way into a harsh and vicious snarl. "Shut up, Thanatos!" Ripred bitterly spat. "This isn't the time for these stupid stunts!"

Before Ripred could carry on, Gregor curtly interjected, "Ripred. Like you said, it isn't the time. We'd better get a move on." With the spoken words, Gregor gestured towards Thanatos, who glared at Gregor (which was unfair, since he caused the anger to erupt between himself and Gregor). Gregor merely continued his stride towards Thanatos, and threw himself onto the bat's back, obviously causing some discomfort for the bat, much to Gregor's grim delight.

The moment Ripred stepped onto Thanatos' spacious back, Thanatos rose to an immense height, and then soared down at a terrifying speed, jarring Gregor's bones, Thanatos' way of getting back at Gregor. He knew Ripred wasn't feeling much, as he had gone through the experience many a time, thus the discomfort only being inflicted on Gregor.

If he had thought Gregor would sit there and silently regret what he had done, he was wrong.

"Hey, could you slow down a bit?" Gregor called out, louder than necessary, anticipating the bat's shudder of pain, knowing that their hearing was more sensitive.

When Thanatos merely unfurled his wings even more and sped down even faster, Gregor halted this by pounding on Thanatos' head with his fist. Automatically, the virtual free fall morphed into a steady flight, which Gregor found the courtesy to enjoy. Gregor looked at the landscape around him, and realized that the change had not been as radical as he anticipated.

Ripred, seeming to sense Gregor's thoughts, told him, "You won't sense anything that signals change by looking in this place."

"Yeah, I kind of can." Gregor countered gravely. "The loss of life in these areas. I remember seeing a whole bunch of creatures around here."

Ripred remained silent.

As the flight aged, Gregor began to make out the outlines of the structures of the city, accented by their curving and magnificent structure. There was no flaw or inconsistency that happened to pass by Gregor's eye.

No change.

"No change, hmm?" Ripred inquired with a brief roll of his eyes. "Don't expect that."

"What are you trying to say?" Gregor gazed disbelievingly out into the city sprawled in front of them. "Look at it! What could have-"

"Bloodclaw! How many times have I warned you not to do that?!" Ripred suddenly screamed ferociously, tints of spit coming out of his mouth. Gregor whipped around, and his eyes widened in undisputed awe.

Sprawled on the ground before him, was a countless number of gnawers, all frolicking and some seriously consulting with some human soldiers. A young, immature looking rat looked up at Ripred sheepishly and squeaked, "Sorry, Ripred!"

"Appearances are deceiving." Ripred commented, while giving Gregor a look that reprimanded his previous words.

This time, Gregor remained silent.

His mood swiftly changed, and he asked, (slightly mortified) "What IS this? I never thought I'd see this in my life!"

Ripred laughed, and then callously replied, "Your majesty, to properly implement the new relations between the humans and gnawers, sent a bunch of humans to the gnawer colonies, and we sent a whole bunch of gnawers here. Pretty good decision; wanted people to see that she wasn't just saying that Regalians were to have good relations with us."

"Wow." This was all Gregor could make out.

"Like I said, some things change for the better." Ripred said with a casual shrug. "And when they do, life's great."

"And some things change for the-" Gregor began pessimistically, but was quickly cut off by Ripred, who finished,

"Worse. I know." Ripred sighed, ostensibly unused to Gregor's pessimistic and apathetic attitude.

Gregor turned and continued his "tour" of the city, until he reminisced where he was at that particular moment; above the arena. _Isn't this...where I first came in to Regalia? Wow...it's also where I first saw Luxa..._

Gregor shook away these memories, which were particularly harsh to his heart, and suddenly felt a burst of air as Thanatos readied himself for landing.

"Do I permit myself to land here, _Lord _Ripred?" The bat screeched loudly, putting some defiant emphasis on the word, lord, demonstrating his opinions of Ripred's title. Yet, Gregor still heard the playfulness and respect in his voice.

"Alright, do it here," Ripred grumbled, slightly ruffled by Thanatos' calling him "Lord."

As the bat sped down, Gregor muttered, "Well, you've been promoted."

"Yeah, I guess I have. Luxa insisted that the "queen's bond" be given some respect. In some ways, I prefer it, but in most ways, I hate it. It's annoying. Now all these people come to me for me to solve their petty problems." Ripred lamented.

"Heh, well, you are Ripred." Gregor wryly smiled, leaping off Thanatos, turning in disgust to look at the bat. Thanatos returned relatively the same stare, protruding the same amount of hate.

Figures, Ripred thought exasperatedly, dissuading himself from intervening into the ludicrous fight. "Gregor! C'mon! We have some work to do!"

Gregor gave Thanatos one last look of contempt and hatred, and even with his disgruntled mind, he relentlessly stalked towards Ripred...who slapped his tail down as a barrier between Gregor's path and Ripred.

"What do you say?" Ripred prodded enunciatingly, waiting for Gregor to find the right words.

Gregor stared blankly for a moment at Ripred, and his mind strenuously clicked; he grudgingly realized what he had to say.

Looking down, he stumbled out a distorted form of, "Fly you high...,"

Thanatos did not reply, but instead fluttered his wings as a form of acknowledgement. With that said, he flew to the skies, and forged a movement of flight, but instead looked down lethargicly and indolently upon Gregor. "Augh, what the hell was that for?" The boy growled impatiently.

"Just a little bye-bye." Ripred replied in jest, with a tint of a sardonic tone in his voice.

Thanatos smiled deeply...with mischief clearly being exerted from his "crocodile" smile.

"Good-bye, bond to the traitor." Thanatos snarled, only in his head. In actuality, he merely alleged these words. With that, Thanatos whipped around, and streaked off, making his way to the flier lands quite quickly.

The last thing he saw was Ripred's disgusted and appalled look at Thanatos. Whoops. Next time, he'd have to take his mischief out quietly.

* * *

The sullen diplomat, Vikus, forced a smile onto his emaciated lips. It was obvious for one to conclude how relaxed the smile was; Vikus was visibly exerting a concentrated amount of pressure on the smile. However, when he saw Gregor the Overlander, most of that pressure faded away. Yet, the dilemma...no, conundrum...no, no word could describe it, Regalia had been thrust into was most harsh, and the depressing attitude was filling the air, leaving no mind unscathed. Even the usually merry children who frolicked in the fields now sullenly and demeaningly stared down at the ground.

Vikus took the first step towards Gregor, and Gregor acknowledged the step as a kindly gesture.

"Vikus."

"Gregor the Overlander."

Adorned in a magnificent, blue robe that had to be far too large for him, Vikus was hunched over, wrinkles distorting his face, white hair threatening to overtake the very roots of his eyelashes.

Stress, Gregor assumed. Insomnia. Something.

Out of the shadows, Gregor noticed another tall but...amputated? figure lumber out.

Mareth.

His only leg zigzagged in and out of an absurd moving pattern to a person with two legs, and two crutches supported the man's body, providing him with a adequate way of walking.

"Mareth."

"Gregor." And without a pause Mareth went to grab Gregor in a rib-crushing hug- but as soon as he extended his arm out, it came back and hung limply at his side.

"Things have been going bad here." Mareth stated simply and forlornly. "How did your life fare?"

Gregor looked despondently at Mareth. "I don't have a family any more. Enough said." He sighed wretchedly and turned back to Vikus. "How about you, Vikus?"

Vikus, in return, also sighed. "Ah, Gregor the Overlander...with the Cutters having made their move and an impending doom looking upon us...I too, fare bad."

Gregor nodded, and suddenly Vikus' words rewound in his head. "An impending doom looking upon us..." Vikus had just said...

Gregor's fists clenched and his mouth broke into a furious scowl. "What didn't you tell me?" He snarled ferociously at Ripred, having too much respect for Vikus to snarl at the sick old man.

Ripred conveyed his conspiratorial reply through a sigh. Then he droned on, "Alright, I was afraid that if I told you, you wouldn't come. And that's saying something, considering your tactical toughness."

Gregor accepted the compliment without batting an eye and ushered Ripred on after saying, "That is saying something. What is this threat?"

"...Death." Came the forsaken reply.

"Death." Gregor skeptically said.

"Death." Ripred confirmed.

Gregor sensed that by the way Ripred was talking that it was no joke. He briskly said, "Explain to me how death can be a threat."

"Not just...just death-" Ripred was clearly having trouble explaining this to Gregor who raised an eyebrow. Sensing that Gregor's attention span was fading, Ripred hurried on, "Death. As a personification. As a living thing that brings about death."

"And?" Gregor asked.

"And what?" Ripred scowled. "This isn't a game. Say what you mean!"

"What's wrong with that?" Gregor smirked mirthlessly. "Death...is it strong or weak?"

"Just one of it's servants demolished an allied army of gnawers and humans. Does that answer your question?" Ripred looked pointedly at Gregor.

"It has servants?" Gregor perplexedly asked.

"It can create servants until it's almost infinite amount of energy runs out." Vikus interjected, looking all the more downcast.

Ripred nodded, approving of the shaky answer.

"So what faction are they on? Are side? The Cutter's side?" Gregor curiously wondered, not really fearing these creatures.

"We don't know. We just don't know." Mareth miserably replied. "They can be on the Cutter's side, but obviously they have much more superiority to them. The Cutters act single mindedly so we do not know their view of Death and his servants...called Soul Harvesters."

A sudden thought clicked into Gregor's mind. "Did they have anything to do with Luxa's kidnapping?" Gregor abruptly and roughly demanded.

"...We do not know...," Mareth dejectedly spoke. "We must assess the relationship between the Soul Harvesters and the Cutters.

Gregor knew the situation was serious, that every moment was fundamental. "We need to find everything out about the situation..." Gregor said, trying to think of everything Ripred had said to him about the topic...he had a sudden flashback...

_Instead, Gregor asked, "Why...?", clearly meaning to muster out, why did they take her?_

_Ripred impatiently sighed, and then snapped, "Do you have to ask?" Staring at Gregor's blank expression, he decided to approach a more indirect affront. "Well, to figure that out, you'd have to know what's been going on. As you know, the humans and rats have solidified their alliance, and have also allied themselves with pretty much everyone that they could._

_"The Spinners, Diggers, Stingers, you name it. And they already had the nibblers and bats. So, the humans were pretty well off._

_"Except for the fact that the Cutters wouldn't join them. The Cutters are dangerous. They are superior in terms of numbers, strength and locomotive. The Cutters have one thing in mind: serve the queen and protect their land. And what with the humans having pushed the Gnawers onto their land," Ripred gesticulated with one furry paw, "you can see that we aren't exactly best buddies with the Cutters._

_"But the Cutters are feeling threatened now, **I assume,** due to the large alliance placed against them. Granted, their are still countless creatures neutral, but it's not like their nature is getting them any new pals soon._

_"Due to the threatening position of the humans, the Cutters decided to strike first, attacking the alliance. And you tell me, who is responsible for the whole alliance?" Ripred asked Gregor triumphantly, already knowing the answer that would emerge from Gregor._

_"...The humans..." Gregor said rather reluctantly, deliberately, just to appease Ripred._

_"Bingo!" Ripred over-enthusiastically said. Turning away from Gregor, he abruptly glanced back with a dark glint to his eye. "And what better way than to strike the alliance than to take out its leader?" Ripred snidely questioned._

_Gregor had to admit, Ripred's quick reasoning matched perfectly in the chain of events. "There is no better way," Gregor impassively conjectured, the argument taken out of him. And then, "So I suppose Luxa has been queen for a while now?"_

_"Yeah, she has," Ripred passively said. "And I have to admit, she's a damn good queen. Had a profound impact on everyone. I have to admit, she's done way more than I or Vikus have done. I mean, look at it! She has basically all known creatures in an alliance, something I couldn't even get between two groups!"_

_"So I guess Luxa has been faring well?" Gregor tentatively mentioned, hoping that the answer would be yes._

_"No, I can't say she has." Ripred gravely answered the question. "A ruler is inept if they don't have some sort of stress on them, and I have to say, stress has had a profound impact on Luxa. I mean, she isn't exactly an old lady with white hair," Ripred gestured to his fur, "but she isn't doing well. Same looks, basically, but a lot of creases on her forehead. And, she's not really happy."_

"So that's why you had said assumed." Gregor spoke with a wan grin. "How do they look?"

* * *

**All right I'm done with the chapter. Pretty long. Bad cliffhanger. I was gonna put in a bunch of more words but I decided I'd leave that in the next three chapters. My chapter would have been 15,000 words if I put all the stuff I wanted in here. **


	7. I'm leaving this site

**Thanks for the reviews. But I'm probably not even going to write this fanfic anymore. I'm bored of it. I'm looking for entertainment, and the ideas just don't come out anymore. I might write later, but until further notice, I'm done writing. By the way, Death969 is my cousin, and I didn't even know about him having an account until two days ago. He's leaving the site for good, and his friend, Fallen Ark, is also leaving the site. I don't know who Youneedtoknow is, and Warlordofnulgath and Warlordofdage have also ostensibly disappeared from the site. My reviewers have also disappeared, so I kind of don't have the motivation to write. I guess I'm mainly gonna be writing essays for school. **

**I might occasionally drop in, just to review some of the updated stories. **

**Ah, just writing this makes me think I'm not going to write again, unless I move onto fictionpress where I can start a story from scratch. **

**That is why I haven't updated in so long. Alright, I'm out. **

**Until we meet again! or not! **


End file.
